


Mind Fuck (Literally)

by tieressian



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Angst, Blow Jobs, Body Worship, Bucky Barnes's Metal Arm, Choking, Daddy Kink, Degradation, Dirty Talking Bucky Barnes, Dom Bucky Barnes, Dom/sub, Drugs, F/M, Face-Fucking, Face-Sitting, Femdom, Mind Games, Mind Manipulation, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Praise Kink, Rape/Non-con Elements, Rough Oral Sex, Rough Sex, Shameless Smut, Smut, Spanking, Sub Bucky Barnes, Table Sex, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, god theres so much to tag
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-26
Updated: 2020-09-26
Packaged: 2021-03-07 22:21:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,171
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26665105
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tieressian/pseuds/tieressian
Summary: What happens when you lose all sense of reality? When fantasies are corrupted and desires are twisted beyond all recognition?Well, Bucky doesn't care about that right now. All he wants is to fuck reader again and again and again and again and again...
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Reader
Comments: 2
Kudos: 106





	Mind Fuck (Literally)

**Author's Note:**

> Please read all of the tags. I know it seems conflicting, but they all should apply. Also, let me know if I forgot to tag anything. Hope you enjoy!

He never wants this to end.

A single ray of sunshine slants over the bedsheets like molten gold. Honey yellow melting into the white, dove colored sheets in a blur of amber hues. Pulsating warmth wraps around him in a soft blanket of goose down and rose petals. Coiling low in his gut as he props himself up on his forearms, a smile curling his lips as he drinks you in like a glass of fine wine.

You’re sprawled out beneath him so prettily. Kiss bitten lips and half lidded eyes that blink up at him like sparkling jewels beneath the waves. Fingers combing through his long hair like he’s something precious, something to be held and coddled and  _ loved _ . Scratching at the nape of his neck in a way that almost makes him purr, the reverbs of your bitten back laughter echoing like an angel’s choir.

“‘S not funny,” he says groggily, voice thick and syrupy as he presses into your touch like a cat.

The corner of your lip twists in a soft smile. Fingers trailing down his cheek and curling around his jaw as you tug him close. The drag of your fingers over his throat pulling him along like a puppet on a string. “Just a little,” you grin, swallowing his playful objection as your lips press to his. Deep and passionate as your arms loop lazily around his neck. Chest to chest whilst your fingers smooth down his shoulders, tracing metal and flesh with a loving sense of familiarity that makes his heart skip a beat. An aching hole of emptiness that he hadn’t even realized was there finally filled.

Wanting more,  _ needing  _ more, he pulls back and traces his lips down your throat. Planting wet, open mouthed kisses over the dip of your collarbone and slant of your shoulder blades. Making his way to the swell of your breasts with almost virginal eagerness. A pause for tension’s sake, and he laves his tongue over your hardened nipple. Taking explicit pleasure in the way you tense and sigh at his ministrations (though he could’ve sworn you were wearing a bra a second ago. A simple, cottony white with worn straps and frayed edges. He would’ve remembered taking it off. Would’ve made a whole thing of it…)

His thoughts are dragged elsewhere as you press up into his mouth with a pleading keen. His name spilling from your tongue with the same reverence one would give to god. Damn, he never wants to hear it any different.

“Bucky,  _ please _ ,” you intone, riled up and hot with burning desire. Patience running thin like stone worn away by relentless ocean waves. He’s barely done anything and yet you look  _ ruined.  _ Flushed and panting as if you’ve just gone two rounds. A fantasy brought to life. Perfect, sultry, wet. 

(A bit  _ too  _ perfect).

He gifts you a wicked smile. Pulling away with an absolutely vulgar  _ pop  _ that leaves your skin shiny and wet. Metal fingers dipping between the apex of your thighs and teasing the wetness there. The sharp bite of cold as his fingers play with your cunt almost too much to handle.

“Oh god oh god oh god,” you chant, a litany of moans following your words as he grips your thighs and spreads them. Guiding himself inside in a painfully slow thrust that eats at all his self control, “oh  _ god.” _

He waits. The peach flesh walls of your cunt squeezing his cock like a fist. Temptation and sin bundled up and stored in the snatch of heaven between your legs. Back bowed as if in prayer, he slumps forward and presses his forehead to yours. Breaths intermingling as his fingers dig into the silken thread of the sheets (he could’ve sworn they were linen a second ago).

“Please, please, Bucky please,” you whine. Rolling your hips and shattering the frayed line of his self control. The cable snapping and sending the elevator plummeting into the dark.

Heat lancing down his spine like a shock of endorphins, he begins to move. Deep, penetrating thrusts that reach where your own fingers cannot. It’s heavenly, your own moans spurring him on as he buries his face in your neck. Panting in your ear as his hand winds between your twisting bodies and rubs at your clit. Tight, circular motions that leave you gasping for air like a fish out of water.

“Fuck, you’re so perfect. Lookit you,” he groans, swiping his tongue over your neck and luxuriating in the taste of your skin, “want you like this all the time. Want you to love me like I love you.”

Shit, his head hurts. Pain derailing the pleasure even as his body continues moving. Vision turning and spiraling like watercolors bleeding into one another. He can still feel you, hear you. Even as the world goes topsy-turvy and words fall from his mouth unbiddeningly.

“Yeah, you fucking like that?”

You’re blinking up at him with your eyes crossed and mouth lolling open. Fucked dumb on the conference room table as your back scrapes against the polished mahogany. Legs contorted and stretched as he fucks into you with single minded purpose. Jeans shoved aside as he slams his cock into you with vicious precision.

“Gonna fucking  _ mould  _ your pussy into the shape of my cock,” he grunts, gripping your hips only to get at a better angle. Still standing with composure as you look absolutely debauched, “ruin you for every other guy out there. Make you mine and  _ only  _ mine.”

You open your mouth to answer, letting loose an absolutely pornographic moan as he tweaks your clit with a flick of his thumb. Exposing the perfect column of your throat as your head falls back against the table. Well, he can’t ignore such a perfect invitation. His hand finding its place on your throat as he squeezes your neck with not-so-innocent intentions.

“You like this, don’tcha?” he drawls, punctuating his words with a harsh squeeze of his hand, “fucking slut. You’re getting off on this, my hand around your throat? Any second I could just…” he presses down until you’re gasping for air, “fuck, that’s hot. Maybe I’m just as perverted as you.”

You whimper and gasp. Eyes rolling like billiard balls as your feet kick and muscles spasm. Chest heaving with uneven breaths as you come with a roiling cry. Back arching off the table in a perfectly rounded ‘C.’ The purple and black lace of your bra is torn right down the middle, shirt unbuttoned and exposing your heated skin to the chilly air.

He laughs. A cruel, loving thing that clashes in its dichotomy. Thrusting in and out of you even as you whine in overstimulation. Your pitchy whimpering earning you a reprimanding slap on the ass. “Shut up, slut. I may love ya, but just stop your fucking whining and let me use you. A good cocksleeve keeps her goddamn mouth shut. God, my head hurts from all your fucking wailing.”

And, remarkably, you listen. Lip caught between your teeth as you bite back any more whimpering, knowing that it would cost you.

And with a few more devastating thrusts, he finishes. Spilling inside you with a shout as he pushes in up to the hilt. Too wrapped up in the pleasure to complain about your pitiful mewling.

“Bucky?”

His eyes snap open at the sound. The voice-- _ your  _ voice--too kept together to belong to the fucked out girl splayed before him. He turns, catching a glimpse of your shocked expression before his vision tunnels again. Smiling to himself as he watches you fall to your knees, peering up at him with doe-wide eyes as you keep your hands obediently in your lap. Lashes fanning out over your flushed cheeks as you smile shyly at him from the floor.

“Please?” you plea, a playful lilt to your tone that makes him hot all over. The pretty pink bow of your panties and the soft satin of your bra driving him mad.

“Please what,” he corrects, voice domineering in a way that makes you shiver. So small as you kneel complacently at his feet.

“Please, Daddy,” you correct, voice a low murmur that goes straight to his cock, “can I suck your cock?”

He fakes uncertainty. Relishing in the way your thighs shift and rub together at the thought of even seeing his dick, let alone touching it. Tracking the way your tongue flits over your lower lip like a watchful hawk. Hungry for the little mouse fidgeting below him.

“I guess if you want it so bad…” his words trail off. Watching amusedly as you leap at the chance and grab the bit. Fumbling with his belt buckle and tugging down his jeans with gentle reverence, “oh, someone’s eager.”

Your face flushes with embarrassment. So pretty even as you bow your head meekly and bite your lip. Looking up at him beneath hooded eyes as you lean forward and mouth at his covered cock. Coaxing it to hardness as you wet the cloth with wide, open mouthed kisses that spread up to his navel.

He hums low in the back of his throat, watching passively as your fingers tentatively dip below his waistband. Pulling out his cock and eyeing it with a wide, adorably innocent gaze that makes something dark perk up inside him. A need to corrupt and claim and squander every last bit of innocence that he can get his hands on. To turn this pure soul into something as blackened as his.

Unaware of his spiralling thoughts, your eyes drift up to meet his own. Slowly dragging your tongue over the underside of his cock as you draw the head into your mouth. Swallowing him down as you bring him further into the cavern of your throat. So wet and hot that it burns, the sickly sweet perfection too much to resist. To resist the urge to grab you by the scruff of your neck and fuck your face until it turns blue.

The tug of your lips fits snug around his thickening cock. Spit dribbling down your chin as you swallow him down to the root. Pulling back so that only the tip rests on your tongue before forcing him down again. It’s perfect, consuming. His hand resting at the back of your skull as he urges you further down. Faster harder quicker. Now now now.

He feels you choke, feels your throat spasm. And with a sudden, terrifying discovery, he realizes he can’t stop. Fingers disobeying him as they dig into your neck and shove your head this way and that. He can’t stop, he cant stop he needs to why can’t he why why why why

“Shush, darling. It’s okay.”

He opens his eyes with a lazy blink. Head lolling to the side as he feels hands stroke up and down his bare chest. Sprawled out on his back as delicate fingers trace patterns into his skin. Swooping figure eights and spiralling circles that ground him as he breathes. Even and deep, slow and steady, just like his therapist told him to.

“That’s it, just like that,” you croon. The haziness of your figure clearing away with another slow blink. Revealing a gentle smile and a leather clad front that makes his throat go dry in perverse anticipation, “good boy.”

He whines eagerly, embarrassment flushing his cheeks as a sultry smirk curls your lips. Straddling his waist as you lean down and tenderly pet his hair back. Exploring the curves and dips of his face with your other hand.

“Oh, you’re so pretty. So handsome,” you coo. Your words genuine and not at all patronizing as your fingers skip down his cheek, “I wish you’d see yourself as I do. As the wonderful man you are and continue to be.”

He opens his mouth to protest. Silenced as you slip your thumb past his lips and press down on his tongue. Instincts telling him to suck as he swirls his tongue around the curious digit. Watching your eyes darken with lust as his undoubtedly do the same.

“Good god, what did I do to deserve you,” you murmur, removing your thumb even as he chases after the loss. Need satiated as you bend down and slant your lips over his, “my perfect, pretty little boy.”

He avoids your eye and flushes darker as his cock twitches. The stream of praise sending him to Cloud Nine even as half of it isn’t true.  _ Can’t  _ be true.

“I can hear your brain working from here,” you say teasingly, sitting back up as you brace your hands on his chest, “it’s all true, trust me.”

He doesn’t have time to worry about the specificity of your phrasing. Wide eyed and eager as your thighs bracket his head. Panties shoved aside as your fingers wind through his hair. Gathering a fistful and tugging with a pleasurable sting.

“Come on, now. You know what to do,” you grin, humming in appreciation as he licks a stripe up your dripping cunt. Grabbing at your ass and pulling you close as he devotes himself to you. Praying at your altar with humble reverence for someone so divine as you.

There’s a throbbing in his chest that pounds with every heartbeat. Beating against his ribs like a bird slamming against the bars of its cage. A pain that spreads through his veins like a drug. Burning hot and chillingly cold in the span of a second. He can hear you calling for him. Two voices overlapping in a confusing overlay that sends him down down down as he watches you prostrate yourself before him. Ass up as the pretty white lace of your lingerie stands out against your skin.

“Such a good girl,” he commends, voice low and rough as his hands smooth over the globes of your ass. Chuckling at the way you shimmy and shift as he slips your panties over your thighs. Running his hands down your flank as he traces his knuckles down the bend of your spine. 

Without so much as a word of warning, he dips his fingers between your legs. Toying with your cunt as a broken moan spills from your lips. Hips pushing back against his hand as he teases your clit with a skilled finger.

“You’re so  _ wet _ ,” he stresses, fingers glossy with slick as he pops them into his mouth. An approving rumble reverberating through his chest as the taste of you explodes on his tongue, “and so goddamn sweet.”

You whimper at his praising words, voice tiny and broken as you speak up from the pillows, “all for you…”

“Yeah,” he hums, grabbing your hips and slipping inside with one easy thrust, “‘cause you’re  _ mine _ , aren’t ya?”

Your response is lost in a pitiful yowl. Fingers fisting the sheets as you push back to meet his every thrust. Mouth lolling open as moans are forced out each time his hips meet the curve of your ass. Sweat beads on his brow as pain and pleasure coils in his chest. Like a bullet--or maybe a dart--had stuck right between his ribs. He can hear you scream, both beneath him and somewhere in a distant memory. Watching in terror as he falls to the ground with the syringe buried right above his heart. Vision blurring and darkening as he wakes to sunshine and sheets smelling of fresh laundry.

This is wrong, this is wrong, this is  _ wrong wrong wrong _ . Why is he here why are you here you don’t touch him like this you’re barely even friends why why why

Water laps against his skin as it rises up to his waist. The wet Wakandan heat thick and floral as it fills his lungs with every breath. Sunlight reflecting off the rippling lake in a blur of oranges and reds. Golden and perfect as everything touched by its dying rays seems to glow with otherworldly effervescence.

He’s surrounded by you, buried by you. Lips to skin as five pairs of hands explore his body with loving curiosity. Heated murmurs whispered into his skin as he’s overwhelmed yet desperate. Pleasure thrumming in an underlying current of bubbling heat. Warm and soft in a way that makes his thoughts fuzzy and dick hard.

He moans, he arches. Bowstring drawn taut as five lovely voices giggle and coo at his sensitivity. Wet and hot from mouths and tongues and water as he’s ensnared, captured. Caught up in a delectable web of his own making.

You’re everywhere everywhere everywhere. Pressed to his back and glued to his side, suckling at his front as you kneel at his hip. Rutting against his leg as your hand curls around his throat. He can’t think. Can only smile and groan as he feels the water rise with every jerk of his hips. Way past caring as it creeps its way up to his chest.

“Bucky!”

His eyes snap open. Peering through the tangle of bodies as he spots you running along the shore. Eyes wide and panicked as you wade through the deep, every step you take putting an extra mile between you. You’re in your suit, burnt and torn and is that a  _ bullethole?  _ Reaching out towards him with a cry that snaps reasoning back into place.

Why is he...how is he...you…

“Bucky!” the other five start up. Clawing and grasping and dragging him into the deep, “don’t go, don’t leave us. Help us! Save us! We need you!  _ We love you! _ ”

He can’t move, can’t breathe. Water closing over his head as he sinks down down down into the darkest depths of the lake. Still warm as your voice rings in his ears with sultry promises that make his eyelids droop and thoughts slow.

“Please, stay with us.”

“We need you.”

“We can’t be without you.”

“We’ll make you feel good.”

“We’ll make you feel loved.”

He doesn’t fight. Doesn’t struggle. Feels you curl around him and light a fire in his chest that will burn him into nothing. Wax melting as his ribs open up and heart drips into a puddle of deep crimson.

It’s dark dark dark, and then there’s light. Golden and pure in a way that makes him shrink back and lurch forward all at once. Watching you dive down and stretch out your hand in a final, desperate plea.

“Please, come back.”

And he does. Waking with aches and pains that are more precious than gold. Blood dripping down his front as the offending syringe lays a few feet away. Emptied out and smashed to smithereens as the villain lays unconscious beside it.

He turns, basking in your relieved smile as you fret over him with exasperated kindness. Lecturing him goodnaturedly as you help him up and let him lean on you just a little. Barking into comms as your gaze flits over to him every once in a while with a soft, unreadable look in your eyes.

Yeah. He never wants this to end.

**Author's Note:**

> Was reader actually there? Who knows.
> 
> (Okay explanation in case everything was too vague. Bucky is shot up with drugs that trap him in what he wants most. He wants reader, but he and reader aren't like that. So he goes through all of these fantasies, his mind changing the scene whenever he gets close to guessing what's going on. IRL(?) reader breaks through and gets Bucky to snap out of it. If he stayed..? Idk he'd probably overdose and die oop--)


End file.
